


Triwizard Tournament 1792

by starspangledmeatball



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, Gen, Hufflepuff, Triwizard Tournament
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 12:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15486216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starspangledmeatball/pseuds/starspangledmeatball
Summary: How the Triwizard Tournament was disbanded the first time.





	Triwizard Tournament 1792

_June 1792_

Emeline Gardener scoured the library, fingers skimming over titles in search for something, anything, to help her in the Triwizard Tournament. She had braved the first two tasks and now she would be facing the final and most dangerous of the tasks. Being a Champion for Hufflepuff, she felt the desire to prove herself to the other Houses that they were wrong with their image of what exactly a Hufflepuff was. As the Sorting Hat sang every year, a Hufflepuff was loyal and unafraid of toil. Emeline definitely embodied both. She hoped. There were times where the Task seemed daunting and she was having second thoughts.

As the youngest of the Champions at only fourteen, she had something else to prove. That age didn’t matter, and she had to prove to the purebloods of Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, and Slytherin that her Muggle-born lineage had nothing to do with talent. The problem was that she had placed second and third in the first two tasks respectively.

The third and final task was to be an underground Labyrinth and, inside, three monsters of unknown origin. One for each Champion, yet they aren’t trained to go after one specific Champion. Depending on things, the monsters may choose to attack only one. Slay the monster–or monsters–and find the trophy. Emeline was rather good at mazes. Her father, a gardener, would often take her to the maze on the grounds of one of the King’s Castles. She would play there and learned the maze so well, she would be sent to fetch those who got lost amongst the high hedges of roses.

A maze would be no problem. Defeating what was in it was another matter entirely. The books in the main area of the library were of no help where spells were involved, and she didn’t trust the assistance offered to her by those around her. Not since Arthur Wormwood gave her a spell that was supposed to turn her hair from mousy brown to sunshine gold and it ended up falling out completely. She was still trying to grow it back out to her waist, but it refused to go past her shoulders.

No, this was something she needed to research for herself.

Emeline went straight to the Restricted Section and found Svante Mattsson, the Champion from Durmstrang, browsing the books. She caught his eye and he sneered.

“Your determination is adorable,” he said. “But a little girl like you has no place as a Champion.”

Emeline felt her face grow hot. She seethed, biting remarks dragging to the tip of her tongue.  Her throat constricted with anger, stopping the words in their tracks. Her frustration grew which only made her stammer. Svante threw his head back and laughed.

“You should learn how to speak,” he chuckled and took her chin in his fingers. “It might be useful for the final task. We don’t want to see a pretty thing like you get hurt.”

Still too angry to speak, Emeline snapped, biting his hand. Red welled on his thumb and satisfaction filled her stomach at seeing the cocky bastard bleed. He glared at the wound and raised his hand, making her flinch. He smirked and lowered it.

“Show that fire in the final task and you just might survive,” said Svante. “But don’t fool yourself into thinking you’ll win.”

As soon as he left, Emeline found her words.

“Perhaps the only fool you should worry about is yourself,” she muttered and stomped her foot. Ugh, that was the perfect response! If only she had been able to actually say it to him. Now was not the time to be worrying about prigs like him, however. She had a Tournament to win.

Emeline’s confidence dwindled further as she found the books in here as useless as any of the others in the library. She sighed and just dragged her fingers along hard covers hoping something would stick or stand out. She touched something unnaturally soft and recoiled back, snapping her gaze to the shelf. Amongst the dusty titles was a book that stood out from the rest. It was lumpy, flesh colored, and had no title. A whispering voice indistinguishably caressed her ear. Looking around for the source, she found no one.

Frowning, she turned back to the book and touched it once more, cringing at how soft it was. A painful tingling shot up her arm as she slid it out from the spot. The cover made her inhale sharply in horror. The cover was shaped into something that could almost be called a face, though wrinkled and twisted with soulless eyes. Captivated by it, she lightly touched it and flipped it open to find nothing written on its yellow pages.

The cover shifted under her hands, gasping, she closed it and saw the book’s mouth open with a low, anguished moan sending chills down Emeline’s spine. She wanted to scream, but she was frozen, her hands clutching this cursed object.

“You show great desire,” the book whispered. “I see right into your soul. A wish to prove yourself.”

“Yes,” said Emeline, finding her voice. “Yes, I… it’s the Tournament. The final task is in two days… can you help me?”

“I… I was once a Great Sorcerer—”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure you were,” said Emeline dismissively. “Listen, can I find you tomorrow and you can tell me everything?”

“I cannot,” said the book unfazed by her interruption. “As soon as you put me down, it will take another to find me.”

“So, you can’t help me,” she replied.

“I did not say that. I can grant you one wish. Please, beware that this will have a price. You must be very specific.”

“I wish to be remembered,” said Emeline eagerly. “Once this Tournament has ended, everyone will know my name.”

“Your wish is my command.”

\----

Emeline raced through the underground maze, the cold air chilled her bones while the walls became claustrophobic. Chasing her was a creature with long skeletal arms and legs, sharp claws, and a face devoid of eyes or a nose, only rows of sharp teeth. Her spells were useless against it and she didn’t know what to do.

“Help…” a feeble voice cried as she entered a wide cavern.

She slowed to a stop and saw Svante lying there, bleeding and horribly injured. Though she hated him, she couldn’t stand to see him like this.

“What can I do?” she cried. “I don’t know how to fight it.”

 _“Bombarda… Maxima…”_ he whispered.

A terrible screech caused Emeline to whip her head around. As the monster of clay caught up to her, another creature with the body of a lion and head of a snake appeared in the mouth of an adjacent tunnel. Paying no mind to each other, they stalked towards the two Champions. Emeline steeled her nerve and knelt down in front of Svante to protect him. He would owe her for this.

 _“Bombarda Maxima!”_ she shouted casting the spell above the monsters.

A bright light shot out of her wand and connected with the ceiling. The cavern shuddered and rumbled, shaking the very ground. The serpentine feline ran back into the tunnel from which it came while the creature of clay was crushed underneath rubble from the ceiling. The damage did not stop there.

Emeline doubled over Svante’s head, covering her own head with her arms. If she was going to die, she’d rather die with this gollumpus than alone. A sharp pain cracked over her spine and darkness slammed across her vision.

\------- 

Unctuous Osbert, Minister of Magic, unfurled a scroll to address the crowds.

“On this day, the Twenty-Sixth of June, 1792,” he said. “I announce to you all that the Triwizard Tournament is hereby disbanded following the injuries of two Champions and the death of one. Emeline Gardener, though she had no blood status or wealth to speak of, behaved admirably in this Tournament and saved Svante Mattsson, son of the current Minister of Magic for Sweden. Therefore, we award her, postmortem, the Order of Merlin: First Class. Never again, will we put young lives in danger for the sake of entertainment.”


End file.
